


Sunshine

by FriendlyHag



Category: Wilfred (US)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dancing, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Law School, M/M, season 2 episode 7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:56:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyHag/pseuds/FriendlyHag
Summary: When Ryan runs into his ex best friend from law school, James, it stirs up old feelings he'd intended to keep buried.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so surprised nobody has written this pairing before, but i'll fill the ship tag myself if I have to!
> 
> The first chapter is a retelling of the start of season 2 episode 7 with some additional details added in, but future chapters will depart from the show's events more. Also, in this story Ryan is single and not dating Amanda.

The beachside coffee shop was slowly getting emptier. Across the table from Ryan, Kristen gathered her things and slung her black leather bag over her shoulder. It was time for her to get on with her day, which was good because he had been pretty checked out of the conversation since James left. Ryan was still keeping a calm demeanour, despite the unwanted adrenaline that had been trembling through his body from the moment James had approached them.

He used to imagine what would happen if he ran into him by chance. There was a time when these hypothetical confrontations used to play over and over in his head, being the closest thing to closure he had. They were always the same: James trying to explain himself, Ryan not taking any of his excuses, and finally getting to tell him everything he never gave himself the chance to say.

Real life went quite differently: no excuses, no apologies, and no arguments. Just James trying to act as confident as he always did, rattling off old inside jokes like he wasn’t just tip toeing around the shattered remains of their friendship. Something about that disagreed with Ryan. It was like James thought what he did to him wasn’t even a big deal. But he had to know it was… right? How could he not? Ryan’s stomach sank.

James probably would have said more if Kristen wasn’t there, he reminded himself. He wouldn’t have invited Ryan to catch up over drinks if he didn’t have more to say.

Now, with his sister gone, his mind was free to wander and obsess over their short interaction. Soon enough all he wanted to do was go back to his basement and never come out.

It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. He wasn’t going to take up James’s invitation and they weren’t going to see each other again.

“Who was the guy Kristen wants to bone?” Wilfred asked as they left the café and walked along the beachside to meet Jenna for Wilfred’s Doggy Dancing class.

“Gross.” Ryan replied. Luckily, James was still completely uninterested in her, that much had been obvious. “He used to be my friend in law school. My best friend, actually, until he betrayed me.”

“You had a best friend before me?”

“Yes?” he replied, slightly offended at the question. “Other people have liked me before you,” he reminded him.

Wilfred raised his eyebrows and gave a single slow nod, as if to say this was news to him.

Ryan went on to explain what happened between him and James, the condensed version, leaving out the parts of the story he didn’t want Wilfred to get involved in.

He filled Wilfred in about how they both got jobs at his dad’s firm after law school and how James had hated working there just as much as he did. Joylessly, he recounted the plans they made to escape together, how they were going to quit on the same day and open a practice of their own somewhere, a practice based on ethics and assisting those in need. As he spoke them out loud it felt distant and surreal that these plans were once like a lifeline to him.

“So, what happened?” Wilfred asked, making Ryan lift his gaze which had drifted to the floor while he was talking.

“I quit, then at the last minute he stayed with my dad and took a promotion instead.”

“What an asshole. What did he have to say for himself?”

“I don’t know, I never answered any of his calls.”

They walked in silence for a few moments as Wilfred contemplated. Turning a corner, Ryan spotted Jenna in the distance. It looked like lots of dogs and owners had shown up to the class.

“Maybe you should hear him out, he could have had a reason”, Wilfred suggested.

“What could he possibly have to say?” he replied, feeling that sinking pull in his stomach again. “Like, ‘sorry Ryan, I know you thought I was your best friend, but I stabbed you in the back’,” he finished coldly.

Ryan was good at holding onto a grudge, even if his own feelings betrayed him. Which was good considering how a small fleeting part of him had felt happy to see James. His emotions were a tangled mess right now and he hoped that Wilfred wasn’t about to get all preachy about what he should do about this. He was too tired.

“There’s two sides to every story, Ryan,” Wilfred said simply. He then turned his focus to Jenna, who’d noticed their arrival.

Jenna hurried over and enthusiastically patted Wilfred. “Hey Ryan, thanks for bringing him here. He just loves these classes.”

“No problem,” Ryan said with a polite smile. Thankfully, his conversation with Wilfred was forced to end just when he wanted it to.

 

* * *

 

Later, in the basement, Wilfred tried to talk Ryan into being his partner for his Doggy Dancing recital after learning that Jenna would be unavailable. Unfortunately for Wilfred, Ryan hadn’t danced at all in at least a year and was _not_ going to be his partner. Wilfred insisted that he at least give it a try and Ryan took the path of least resistance, humouring him.

Joylessly taking Wilfred’s paws, he danced a clumsy waltz around the basement, repeatedly stepping on Wilfred’s feet from lack of coordination and effort.

“You’re too tense, move your hips!” Wilfred complained. Finally, after enough failed attempts, he let go of Ryan’s hands and sighed. “This isn’t working.”

“I told you so,” Ryan said, hoping that would be the end of it.

Wilfred paused, tapping a paw-pad to his lip. “I want to try something,” he said, adopting a calm teacher-like tone. He sat on the floor and crossed his legs, patting the ground until Ryan reluctantly joined him. “Great,” he said, still in that slow gentle voice that Ryan found eerie. “Now, I want you to tell me about the first time you made love.”

“What? No. Why?” he replied defensively. Did Wilfred know? His pulse momentarily picked up.

He grew more rational as soon as he had a few seconds to think about it. There was no reason why Wilfred would know, he didn’t even know who James was before today. He was just being stupid.

“Ryan, come on. Trust me.”

“No. What does that have to do with dancing?”

“Please, this will work, I know what I’m doing,” Wilfred insisted.

“I’m not doing that, Wilfred.”

“Why are you being so secretive? I’d tell you.”

Ryan sighed, knowing from experience how pointless it was to go against him. Sometimes it was easier to just give him what he wanted. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had to tell the truth.

Ryan would never tell Wilfred he'd been a virgin until he was 22 because, even leaving aside the main reasons for not telling him about James— Wilfred’s tendency towards meddling and manipulation— He would never tell Wilfred because he _knew_ he would be a dick about it.

“She was my girlfriend in high school… we were study partners.” He checked Wilfred’s eyes for any sign he was picking up on the lie, but saw none, so he continued, letting his mind wander to his actual first time for inspiration. “One night we were in her room and one thing led to another… we were so nervous.” He felt a smile tug at his lips as he remembered how he'd felt in that moment, everything had been exciting and new. There’d been an intimacy and warmth that he'd barely felt since they’d parted ways. Somehow the memory of that feeling was more vivid today.

Wilfred nodded interestedly, encouraging him to finish the story.

“But the moment we finished, we heard her dad stomping down the hallway. I’ve never gotten dressed so fast in my life. We could barely stop giggling.” His face brightened as he remembered and he allowed it, just for that moment.

He'd never realised how juvenile his virginity story could sound without context, considering it occurred in his second year of law school with a man who definitely wasn’t a virgin.

“My first time was almost exactly the same,” Wilfred said, then he started telling the story. It involved him having sex with soon-to-be roadkill before being chased off by their owner. It was disturbing and wiped the smile straight from Ryan’s face, harshly reminding him that Wilfred was a dog, not a man.

“I want you to remember how you felt on that magical night, Ryan, the joy, the passion. Capture that feeling,” Wilfred said soothingly. Ryan closed his eyes and breathed, attempting to recapture that warm feeling he had before Wilfred’s story. He used to have such a capacity for joy back in those days. It was like he’d forgotten about it.

“Are you feeling it?”

“I guess so,” Ryan said hesitantly.

“Good, hold onto that,” Wilfred said, taking Ryan by the hand and pulling him to his feet. Then he hurriedly turned the music up.

Ryan didn’t want to admit it, but maybe there was something to this. He found himself dancing in sync with Wilfred; not only that, but he was actually enjoying it. As he loosened up he became more spontaneous, letting his body react to the music intuitively.

He spent the whole afternoon that way, having carefree fun, dancing with his neighbours’ dog; not thinking about his problems or what other people thought as they shimmied and twirled through alleyways and crosswalks. Oddly, he felt more alive than he had in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

It was their second year of law school and Ryan and James’s relationship was kind of ambiguous. It started at Bean Man’s party, when they were both too wasted to think straight. They were drinking cheap beer and sitting on the kitchen floor because it was that point in the night. Then out of nowhere, in the same tone somebody would use to drunkenly dare a person to eat a cigarette or dive into the pool from the roof, James turned to him and said, “I dare you to kiss me.” And younger, drunker Ryan didn’t back down from a dare. Despite the rest of the party being a blur, he still remembered making out with James and not caring who saw as people passed in and out to get to the fridge. He still remembered how he wanted the heat of his body against him.

It seemed like it would be a one-time thing, they even laughed about it the next morning. “Why did I do that?” James repeated through his laughter—not in a regretful way, but like he was just dumbfounded by where the impulse came from, like drunk him and sober him might as well be separate entities.

But the next party they went to, it all happened again as they stumbled home together through the back alleys, unable to keep their hands off each other. His back was against the brick wall as James kissed him, hard. It was an exhilaration Ryan had never felt before, not even with people he’d dated. Ryan quickly found himself looking forward to parties for this reason alone. That could have made him feel desperate, but he had a suspicion that James felt the same way.

Yet still, it hadn’t gone much further than that. When James would come back to Ryan’s dorm he would pass right out shortly after arriving. Not that it mattered, anyway. If anything more was going to happen it shouldn’t be when they’re both too drunk to see straight.

Ryan wondered if someday they’d kiss without the excuse of being drunk. Similarly, he wondered what the future would bring. It made him happy to imagine this all culminating in James becoming his boyfriend, but he knew he'd never be the one to make that happen. So he waited. It was undeniable that it was building up to something, he could feel it. Good or bad, he didn’t know. But they couldn’t carry on in ambiguity forever; eventually things would need to be talked about. He both welcomed and feared it.

When spring break was approaching, James invited Ryan to spend it with him at his parent’s acreage. He told him about all the things he used to love about the place: clean country air, home cooked meals with vegetables straight from the garden, fishing with his brothers by the creek, playing games and getting lost in the forest that backed onto the property. But most of all, he loved how it was far enough out that you could see the starry sky in its full glory, without the light-pollution of the city.

“When was the last time you saw stars like that?” James asked with his arm hanging casually off the back of the couch they sat on. His whole body was facing Ryan, but there was a respectable distance between them.

“Not since Catherine took us camping when I was little. I barely remember it.” Ryan put his drink down on the coffee table, realizing that he'd been picking at the label for some time. “If I go my dad would be pissed. He's expecting me to stay at his place for spring break,” his lips curved slightly as he added “but I’m sure he'd manage.”

“Well, have a think about it. My folks are a little weird, but they’re nice. And I’m sure we'd find enough things to do to keep out of their hair anyway.”

“Yeah, for sure,” was all Ryan could muster in response.

His head was racing with questions, it had been since James had invited him. But none of them were questions he would ask out loud.

 

* * *

 

Ryan had been quiet when they arrived in the afternoon. A lot of his time was spent listening as James filled his parents in on what he had been up to, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t feel like talking much anyway. Not after the phone call with his dad earlier that morning. He should have thought about how waiting until the last minute to tell his dad he was spending spring break with James could put a damper on things.

He was feeling more comfortable by the time the sun was setting. James was right, the stars looked nothing like they did in the city. The night sky felt brand new and they spent the entire evening under it. This was at the insistence of Victor, James’s dad, who jumped at the chance to show off the fire pit he’d recently built from scratch. Dinner was served around the fire where they sat on wooden benches, which he’d also built.

Eventually, James’s parents said goodnight and went to bed, leaving Ryan and James alone together for the first time since they'd arrived. Silence filled the air, except for the gentle the hum of cicadas and crackling embers.

“So, what do you think?” asked James.

“…Of what?”

“You know, everything, being here.”

“It’s great… your parents seem nice.”

“They are, mostly.” The soft glow of flames grew brighter and more powerful as James tossed on another piece of wood to keep it from dying down. His form was illuminated against the glittering sky and Ryan watched him before he sat back down next to him. They both stared off momentarily but then James’s eyes returned to linger on Ryan. “Hey, was something up with you today? It seemed like you barely said a word when we got here. I thought you might be intimidated by my parents, since they can be a bit full on. But I don’t know… You seemed different.”

Suddenly Ryan’s body felt tense and awkward; he shifted position in his seat. “It was nothing. I’m fine now.” It was embarrassing that James noticed him moping around—not how he was wanting to start things off. “It didn’t have anything to do with you or your parents,” he assured him.

“Then what was it?” James asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“It really doesn’t matter. It’s stupid.”

“Ryan. Don’t be like this, tell me.”

He didn’t want to burden James with his problems, but at this point refusing would probably be more annoying. “I had a huge fight with my dad on the phone this morning,” he confessed. “He can be such an asshole sometimes.”

“What was it about?”

“At first it was about me not coming home for spring break, which shouldn’t matter anyway because I’m a grown man and it’s not like I haven’t seen him recently. Then it became all about the ‘bad choices’ I’ve been making and how I’ve ‘changed’. I think he thought the holidays were supposed to be his chance to set me straight.”

“How have you changed?” James asked, disbelievingly.

“I don’t know, because I’m not the perfect student with no social life that he wants me to be anymore? Also, I think Kristen’s been telling him things. He thinks that my drinking is getting ‘out of control’ and I ‘need to stop before it effects my future’."

“Dude.” James paused, taking it all in. “ _You_ don’t think it’s out of control, right?”

“No?” Ryan replied, confused that it was even a question. It was true that since he’d started law school he'd drunk and partied a lot. But that was only because he’d missed out on all that through high school and college by doing everything his dad said. Yes, he occasionally used it to deal with stress and other things, but not constantly. He was still managing to hand in all his assignments and get acceptable grades.

“I just had to check,” James said. “If how much you drink is out of control then what does that say about me?” he added with a laugh.

“I know, it’s stupid.” Ryan said, smiling. Even though opening up wasn’t something he did much, it did feel better to have this out in the open. He was glad James knew when to push him. “Honestly, I think he’s just pissed that I’ll make him look bad by not being an exact copy of him.”

“It’s not your job to make him look good. You’ve gotta live your own life,” James said, looking into the vibrant light of the fire.

“I know,” Ryan replied, but despite his occasional rebellion, he knew that wasn’t what he was doing.

 

* * *

 

The next afternoon, James lent Ryan a fishing rod that belonged to his older brother and they walked down to the creek. A heavy gust of wind followed them the whole time they were there and it almost managed to throw their hats in the water multiple times before they left.

Between them they only caught one fish and it was so unimpressive they let it go. According to James it had been like that with his brothers sometimes too. Regardless, Ryan was happy to be out by the water with his best friend as they talked and lazily enjoyed the afternoon.

Eventually they gave up and started walking back. It wasn’t far and before long they could see home in the distance.

“See that over there?” James asked, pointing away from their destination toward a large-ish cubby house.

“Yeah?”

“That was our clubhouse. My brothers and I spent so much time in there when we were kids. We painted on the inside walls so much that there’s barely an empty space.”

“Did your dad build it?”

“Nah, that was something he got into after retiring. He might have if he’d had that kind of time… Do you want to see?”

“Sure,” Ryan replied.

As it hadn’t felt right to spend their time watching TV when they were out in the country, they found small things to entertain themselves. When something presented itself that seemed mildly amusing, they went with it. This had resulted in James showing Ryan various pieces of his past, from his childhood photo album to the mish mash of different trophies he received through his adolescence. It was how this morning had found them heading out to fish, and it was how, now, they found themselves going to visit James’s childhood clubhouse.

Dry grass crunched under their feet as they neared the clubhouse. James opened its tiny door. Ryan ducked his head as he squeezed through the entrance. James put his hand on his back, guiding him inside before following him. It was an awkward space to be in, tiny and cramped, impossible to stand without bending down. There were four child sized seats around a miniature table. Each seat was painted with a different name, James, Jeremy, Matt and Emmaline.

“Can I sit down?” Ryan asked.

“Go ahead.”

His new chair creaked under his weight as he examined its painted letters. “Who’s Emmaline?” he asked.

“My sister. Or, she _was_ at least”.

“James I’m so sorry. You’d never mentioned—"

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. She was my imaginary friend, she needed her own seat for some reason.”

“Oh my god! You suck,” Ryan said with an exasperated laugh, clearly unamused.

“I’m sorry, I had to.” James laughed and joined him at the table, sitting in the chair with his name on it. He gazed around at the painted walls which were crowded with stick figures and ambiguously shaped blob creatures. “It’s a wonder none of us went to art school,” he said dryly.

“They’re not bad for something painted by kids. I especially like the… is it a cat?”

“It’s part cat part bear, I used to paint those a lot.” He paused, then his face brightened as he got an idea. “Hey, do you want to add something to the wall?”

Ryan looked at him questioningly. “Are you sure? I’m not any good at painting.”

“Yeah. It’ll be like a memory of when you stayed here. I think we still have some paints,” he said, already picking up a box from the floor and rummaging through it.

It was strangely touching that he wanted to make a memory of _this_ , especially marking a childhood relic with something so permanent. There was something comforting about knowing he was special enough for somebody to want to remember.

“Wouldn’t they be all dried up by now?” Ryan asked, watching him.

James pulled out a tube of turquoise, examining it and attempting to squeeze what he could onto an old palette. “They’re a bit dried up, but still useable. You wanna?”

“I could give it a try,” Ryan replied. James rummaged through his bag, retrieving a bottle of water. He placed it on the table and said they could use it to wash brushes in.

They both squeezed at the old paint tubes, coaxing the remains out onto the palette. “Where can I paint? I wouldn’t want to be covering over stuff you did when you were a kid,” Ryan said.

“Hmm... there’s a spot there we could use.” James pointed at a small empty area in the bottom corner of the clubhouse.

“Alright. Let’s do it.”

They stood up from the chairs, ducking their heads on their way to the corner. It was an awkward shuffle to find a way for them both to fit as they knelt on the ground. If they both wanted access to the area, physical contact was unavoidable. Ryan’s breath caught when he made eye contact with James, their faces were so close that he was instantly reminded of the parties and the dizzying walks home where he got to kiss him as much as he wanted.

“What should I paint?” Ryan asked.

“Don’t ask me, paint whatever you want,” James responded, breaking their eye contact to look down at the palette as he swirled his brush in red.

Ryan tried to think of an idea, but he was distracted by the fact that their shoulders were touching and he could feel every time James moved against him. Such a tiny thing, but it gave him butterflies in his stomach.

Despite his preoccupation, Ryan started painting small decorative flowers, hard to mess up and relatively unnoticeable. They bordered the scene that James was painting, a crude but lively rendering of a sailboat with brightly feathered wings.

“What’s that?” Ryan asked.

“It was in my dream a few nights ago. I had to defend the guy who invented them in court when a bunch of people got injured.”

Ryan replied with a laugh, “That’s awesome. It’s more creative than what I’m doing.”

“Your flowers look good,” James reassured, leaning back to see the whole picture. “How about we combine our paintings a bit more.”

“How?”

“Paint something on top of mine, add to it.”

“What should I add?”

“Anything. Be spontaneous.”

“Ok,” Ryan said, but he felt hesitant to mess up James’ boat. He leaned in closer to the wall to control the brush more easily, which blocked James’s view of what he was doing. His brush stilled centimetres away from the wall as he paused, thinking. “I don’t know what to paint.”

“You’ll be more creative if you just have fun with it. Paint the first thing that comes to your mind. Don’t think about it.”

He stared at the painting and bit his lip as he considered James’ words, trying to take them on board. What did he want to paint? … suddenly an idea arose, and his brush went to work before he had the chance to scrutinize it.

His brushstrokes were less delicate than they were with the flowers, which seemed to blend better with James’s style anyway.

Finishing, he leaned back from the wall and self-consciousness suddenly gripped him, trying to convince him he had accidentally revealed something.

“Is that me and you?” James asked. The flying boat now had two passengers.

“Yeah. I didn’t know what to paint.”

“It’s great,” James said, smiling, which let Ryan exhale his bated breath. James quickly swiped his brush over the palette and added even more to the painting. He painted a fishing rod into both of their hands which they used to reel in gigantic fish in otherworldly colours, taking his time to paint elaborate patterns into the scales. “Your turn.”

“Is that how we’re gonna remember us fishing now?” Ryan joked. The painted mega-fish were a far cry from the tiny guppy they threw back into the water.

“Why not?” James replied with a shrug and a smile. “Go on, add something else.”

Getting into the back and forth of it, Ryan barely had to think before he started painting this time. His brush strokes created rugged mountaintops that the boat was flying over, then he turned them into something more interesting. Somewhere along the way he started having way more fun than he was expecting to.

“What’s that?” James asked.

“It’s almost done,” he said over his shoulder. Though he wasn’t knowingly lying, that didn’t end up being the case. The idea evolved as he painted, carving living faces into the mountains, some human, some not. Every time he thought he was done inspiration would strike and he would add another tiny detail, a cave, a tiny camp fire, a mountain climber throwing a lasso in the air attempting to latch onto the boat flying overhead. Before he knew it, he had painted something that looked half decent, if not a bit weird.

“Dude,” James said, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder as he leaned in to look. It made Ryan’s head turn immediately. “That looks amazing. See? You are creative.”

Just like that he was overcome by their physical closeness all over again. “Thanks,” Ryan said appreciatively. James was staring into his eyes now and Ryan didn’t dare look away. James’ lips parted like he was about to say something, but the words escaped him. Then his hand slid down and away from Ryan’s shoulder.

“How am I gonna top that?” he remarked, turning the subject back to the painting. His movements seemed clumsy and hurried somehow as he swiped his brush over the palette, mixing red with blue.

“You will,” Ryan assured him.

“Oh my god!” James shouted with a jolt, jerking his arms back. His abrupt movement swiped his wet paint brush across Ryan’s cheek.

“What? What is it?” Ryan exclaimed.

“Has that spider been there this whole time?” James said quickly as he shot up from the floor and shifted to the other side of the clubhouse. Ryan noticed the large brown spider on the wall just slightly to the side of him and hurried over to James’s side. “What do we do? Do you want to leave?” James asked.

“Couldn’t we just swat it with something?” he suggested. James was silent as Ryan watched him, waiting for a response. “…You’re really scared of spiders, aren’t you?”

“Isn’t everybody?” James responded, his voice slightly higher than normal.

Even though Ryan felt bad for him, he thought it was cute seeing him like this. Though he himself wasn’t totally comfortable around spiders, it brought out the protective side in him. Ryan noticed a small broom leaning against the corner and picked it up. “I’ll get rid of it,” he offered. “You can go wait outside if you want.” He could see the conflict on James’s face as he was caught between not wanting to look cowardly and wanting to get right out of there. “It’ll be easier that way. I wouldn’t want you in here if it goes running.”

“Ok, I’m out,” James said, pushed over the edge by that last comment. Cautiously, he exited the clubhouse, leaving only Ryan and the spider.

Ryan stepped closer and hovered his broom above it, but he realised he didn’t want to kill it. Looking at how small and defenceless the spider was just made him feel sorry for it.

“…You got lucky this time,” he mumbled as he manoeuvred his broom to try a different approach and with some difficulty, he got the spider to step onto the edge of the broom.

“What’s going on in there? Are you ok?” James called out from outside the clubhouse.

“Yeah, I’m gonna relocate him instead,” he responded.

“You’re what?” James exclaimed, jumping back as Ryan came through to door with the spider on the end of his broom.

Ryan didn’t like it either. His eyes were fixed on the spider, knowing that his heart would start racing if it moved an inch. Luckily, it was staying still while Ryan walked it to some shrubs. Hopefully this would be far away enough from the clubhouse to be an acceptable new home.

He lowered the broom down for it to crawl off but it didn’t budge, so he shook the broom slightly. This accomplished the opposite of what he wanted, sending the spider crawling up the broom handle so fast it almost reached his hand. Ryan shrieked, throwing the broom on the ground and the spider scurried away from him.

“Are you ok? Did you get bitten?” James called out, running over.

“I’m fine, it just surprised me is all.”

They turned back to the clubhouse and James looked like he was holding back laughter as they walked.

“Hey, I did better than you would have,” Ryan argued.

“I know, I’m sorry. I appreciate you doing it,” said James, the urge to laugh still on his face. “I just didn’t expect you to scream.”

Ryan nudged into his side. “I would have thought growing up somewhere like this, you’d be the one who’s used to spiders.”

“It was always my older brothers who’d deal with them. I never had to,” he said indignantly. Then he stopped walking. “Hey, stop, I got paint on your face before.” He reached his hand over to Ryan’s face and his thumb gently wiped the wet paint while the rest of his hand rested against Ryan’s cheek. He was standing closer than necessary which had Ryan gazing up into his dark eyes.

“Are you getting it?” Ryan asked.

“It’s not coming off… I’m just spreading it around!” James exclaimed. As Ryan laughed with him it crossed his mind that being here with James he was the happiest he’d felt in a long time. He reminded himself to savour every moment as much as he could, because who knew when it could all come crashing down. James moved closer, his forearm now touching Ryan’s chest as his thumb rubbed harder to get the last bits of paint. The closeness was stirring something inside of him and he wondered if it was visible on his face.

“All gone…” James informed him, voice gentle and soft. But instead of taking his hand away, it stilled and lingered. They stayed like that, staring into each other’s eyes while neither dared to speak, leaving only the roar of the wind racing through their ears. Ryan’s breath was caught in his throat. He needed to know if James was thinking the same thing he was. And more importantly, was he going to do anything about it?

He just wanted to reach out and touch him, and he knew that if he allowed himself to think before acting he’d talk himself out of it. He let his hand drift up toward James’s shoulder, who’s eyes widened upon contact.

Though unsure of himself, James took the invitation to put an end to the distance between them, making Ryan’s heart race as their lips connected. It was familiar and brand new at the same time, being the first kiss they’d shared without alcohol coaxing them on and smoothing the awkward edges. His emotions felt raw and exposed, but he liked it better this way. Every tiny sound of approval that escaped either of them felt like a confession.

 

* * *

 

The previous night they'd stayed up for hours talking while James showed him interesting bits and pieces lying around his room. Tonight went similarly, and about an hour into this James was digging through a box to the side of his bed.

“You gotta see my high school yearbook quote, it’s gold.”

“Ok.” Ryan perked his head up from the fold out bed he was lying on. His eyelids had grown heavy but he had no interest in sleeping.

“Why’re you all the way over there? Come sit here.” James patted the spot next to him as he sat up against the headboard.

Ryan had a small smile on his face as he got up to join James on his bed. “What were you like in high school?” Ryan asked, getting comfortable and looking at the book in James’s hands.

“Eh, I wasn’t majorly different... It’s not like I’m hiding some goth phase or something.”

“Aw, that’s no fun.”

“I was in lots of clubs and extra curriculars, it meant I ended up being friends with people from all sorts of different cliques, which made things interesting.”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like it made me better at relating to different types of people. But I don’t miss getting caught in the middle of drama—which is kind of inevitable when you sit with the popular kids one day and the theatre kids who hate them the next. Being a floater got me in trouble sometimes.”

He never would have picked James as a floater, being the loyal friend that he was. It was interesting how people change.

“What were _you_ like in high school?” James asked.

“I don’t know. I definitely wasn’t one of the popular kids.”

“Well I know that much, you told me about the rumour about you drawing pubes on yourself.”

“That—" He stopped himself and felt his dignity wane, knowing that James had heard his defence the last time. “…yeah.”

 

* * *

 

About half an hour later Ryan yawned and leaned his head on James’s shoulder. “I’m getting tired,” he said softly.

“Really? Already?”

“I can stay up a bit longer.”

There was a silent pause between them and James shuffled slightly. “Can I ask you something?”

Ryan sleepily nodded his approval into his shoulder.

“What are you wanting from this? I mean… from us.”

Ryan lifted his head and tensely leaned back against the headboard. “That’s a pretty big question,” he stalled.

“I know. But I think we should know where each other is at. I don’t want to do anything that might ruin things.”

“Sure. I… I just don’t know what to say.” Ryan’s eyes were down at his hands.

“Do you want me to go first?” James offered kindly, bailing him out of his discomfort. He had to be glad that James was better at difficult conversations than he was. Left to his own devices they might never talk about this.

“Please.”

“Ok. I’m not sure what you want to happen from here, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot… My main thing is I don’t want to mess up our friendship. If this turned into something more serious there’d be that risk, and I’m not sure I want to take that chance,” James said matter of factly. “Sorry if this is too much, I don’t know if you’ve thought about this kind of thing,” he added.

Was this really what it had all been building up to?

“I have,” he confessed, breathing deeply but remaining composed. There was a silent pause and James made no attempt to fill it. “Are you saying you want it to end?” Ryan asked.

“No, not necessarily,” James said, reaching a hand to rub the side of his own neck. “It depends what you want.”

“How do you mean?” Ryan asked, a glimpse of hope remaining.

“Personally, I like what we have going now. I like the idea of being friends who are something more now and then. But it won’t work if you don’t feel the same about it.”

Relief sunk in, taking precedence over his disappointment. It was ok. Given how casual their relationship had been, he hadn’t let himself get too attached to the idea of them becoming official anyway. What he did let himself get attached to was James himself. If Ryan still got to hold him and kiss him in quiet moments like earlier that day, and he got to be with him in all the ways a best friend gets to, then from where he was standing it didn’t look all that different to a relationship. They hadn’t had sex, but Ryan hadn’t gotten to do that in his past relationships either. And it wasn't like James was seeing anybody else.

The lines separating friends and lovers could be blurrier than Ryan previously realised. He wondered which lines James thought had to be crossed for it to become a relationship and therefore less stable. Was it the intensity of the feelings? Or was it about how often they allowed themselves to act on them? Or was it just a matter of labels?

Either way, it was good enough. “I’m fine with that,” he said. “As long as when this holiday is over it doesn’t go back to only happening when we’re drinking.”

“Alright by me,” James said, voice soft as he leaned in and landed a quick peck on Ryan’s lips. Ryan smiled and drew him into another kiss before he could pull back. As long as he could keep doing this, nothing else mattered, Ryan decided.

His body curved in toward James and the slide of cotton sheets under his hand made him think about where they were. Not the kitchen floor of some frat party, not an alleyway or an empty side street, but an actual bed. Thoughts of what could happen from here filled him with nervous anticipation that tingled all the way through him.

James needily pulled him closer until Ryan found himself straddling his lap. Suddenly being on top of him caught Ryan off guard. He wondered how obvious his inexperience was going to be if things went further, and how much he was bound to humiliate himself.

James admired his body with his hands, slowly drifting from his hips, slipping under the hem of his shirt and up the sides of his torso. Ryan shivered as his touch awakened his body, conscious that the evidence of his arousal was growing more obvious. He caught James’s eyes lingering and felt himself consumed by the suspense of what was to come.

It was past one am by now and the rest of the house was silent. All they could hear was their lips and each other’s breathing which grew heavier as the heat built between them, as their bodies became more acquainted with each other. “Do you want to?” James finally asked, hooking his fingertips in the front waistband of Ryan’s jeans.

“Uh- yeah,” he managed, surprising even himself with how unsure he sounded.

James withdrew his hand and he stared up at him with questioning eyebrows.

“No, I want to,” Ryan corrected quickly, then avoided his eyes. “...I’m really nervous.”

“I am too,” James confessed, the vulnerability of the moment suddenly apparent on his face. “I never would have guessed I’d be the one taking your virginity.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Have they?”

“No, not really.” Ryan said with a small laugh. “...Come here.” He said sweetly, cupping his face and giving him a slow reassuring kiss. Eventually it grew in passion, and Ryan knew that the only way to stop feeling nervous was to just do it.

 

* * *

 

They lazily stared into each other’s eyes as they caught their breath. Ryan felt happy and at peace in the afterglow, so happy he could hardly believe any of this was real. Somehow, he had gotten through this with minimal embarrassment, which was already much better than what he’d expected his first time to be like.

Barely a moment after they peeled their bodies away from each other, footsteps came booming down the hall. James shot up like bolt and grabbed his clothes. Ryan did the same, hurriedly shoving his legs into his pants. They both were overcome by giggles as this was happening, which was at least partly from the adrenaline rushing through them. “Oh my god, oh my god,” Ryan anxiously muttered through his laughter. Somehow, they managed to get dressed just in time.

They had tried to be quiet, but Ryan wondered if they’d been heard anyway. He had no idea how thin these walls were or what type of reaction he could expect from James’s parents.

He heard whoever it was open the door to the empty bedroom next to theirs which made him sigh in relief. Even with clothes on, he was bound to look suspiciously sweaty and dishevelled. But then, without a knock of warning, James’s dad swung open the door to their room. They waited for him to speak, but instead he stood there with a vacant stare at nowhere in particular.

“Dad, are you ok?”

He didn’t react, instead he clumsily stepped into the room, knocking his shoulder against a wall. He didn’t make eye contact with either of them.

James walked over and clutched his dad’s arm gently. “Come on, let’s go back to bed,” he said in a soft voice as he guided his dad out of the room.

Ryan didn’t know what he was seeing but he waited until a minute later James returned alone.

“Sorry about that,” James said, closing the door behind him. “My dad is a chronic sleepwalker. Great timing, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten dressed that fast in my life”.

“Sorry about that,” James said, pulling his jeans off before climbing back into his bed. Ryan stood there awkwardly for a moment. “You wanna join me?” James offered.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Unless you’d rather sleep on the fold out.”

Ryan shook his head and climbed into James’s bed. James reached out an arm, letting him snuggle in close. Leaning against his chest, Ryan had a smile that wouldn’t leave and they both fell into a peaceful sleep like this.


End file.
